


Azl

by ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from Andrea-Lyn: </p><p><em>"You know what I would love love love? I’d LOVE a fic where Dean gets a bump on the head somehow and blanks on his actual memories; instead wakes up thinking he’s Fili. And then, you know, misunderstandings and sexytimes ensue?"</em> </p><p>Enjoy, my friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dwalin's New Hammer

“These early morning shoots are going to be the death of me,” James Nesbitt yawned and shivered, pulling the flaps of Bofur’s cap down over his ears. “Six a.m.!” he lamented the early hour.

“It’ll warm up soon enough, once they get the lights on,” Stephen smiled and took the last bite of his powdered sugar donut.

“Says you. You’re always toasty warm in that fat suit,” James bemoaned. 

“And this morning, that’s a good thing,” Stephen wiped white powder from his beard. “But I’ll be rank and sweaty in three hours. Trust me, you do _not_ want to get a whiff of this suit at the end of the day.”

“I’ll vouch for that,” Graham patted James on the shoulder as he and William Kircher arrived, cups of coffee in tow.

Today, the company was filming some of the fight scenes from the escape from Goblin-town. The sound stage was studded with a series of elevated walkways connecting fake rock walls and caves to simulate the tenuous pathways the actors would be running and fighting on. Some of the walls and fences were intended to break-away as the actors sparred. Seven feet below the walkways, the floor of the soundstage was covered with gymnasium tumbling mats to safely cushion those who “fell” in battle. The entire room was enclosed in ever-present green screen.

“I called you four in early to work on some combat blocking,” Andy Serkis emerged from a fabricated stone tunnel. “I also want to see what kind of pounding these walkways can take, so don’t hold back on me, gents. The rest of the lads will join us soon enough.”

For the next two hours, Serkis ran the quartet through simulated fight scenarios with a handful of costumed goblin actors. Occasionally he’d retreat to his office to see how the rushes were looking.

“Whew, okay then,” James panted between takes, sitting on a fake boulder. “I’m warm now.” The others nodded in sympathy.

When Andy returned, he noticed Graham was rubbing his shoulder. “You all right, McTavish?” he asked the veteran actor. 

“Swinging that giant hammer around is exhausting. Thing’s heavy.” Graham wasn’t one to complain, but his right shoulder was aching ferociously. 

“Let’s see if we can find a lighter one, or construct one for you,” Serkis nodded, taking the weapon from Graham. “In the meantime, switch to the battle axes… and go take some pain meds.” He handed the war hammer off to his production assistant. Graham nodded in agreement, and they got back to work.

Adam and Richard joined them an hour later.

When Andy called for another break, his production assistant returned with Dwalin’s improved war hammer. “Give this a shot, Graham,” Serkis called out. 

“Ah, nice,” Graham smiled, hefting the lighter weapon. “Looks just like the other, but much lighter. What’s it made of, Lou?” he asked the production assistant.

“I think it’s mostly sculpted foam rubber, but with a carbon-fiber core. There’s some wood inside the head for weight,” Lou told him. “He must’ve trimmed seven or eight pounds from it.”

“Nice work,” Graham made sure no one was standing nearby and swung the weapon around experimentally. “Very nice!” he smiled. 

“Careful,” Adam chided. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.”

“C’mon, Armitage,” Graham raised his hammer threateningly at the Brit. “Let’s have a go!”

“Well, if you insist,” Richard pulled out his fake Orcrist. “But don’t come crying to me when I give you an even shorter haircut, Dwalin.” 

“Ugh, here they go again,” Stephen backed off from the sparring pair. 

Richard and Graham were certainly evenly matched at dueling. It wasn’t long before the twosome were panting and flagging. Richard had Graham nearly pinned in a rocky corner near a cave opening when Graham pushed him away and Richard fell into his back.

“Yield!” Graham breathed.

“Never!” Richard grinned. 

Graham swung his war hammer back for a killing blow.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, Dean and Aidan chose to enter the sound stage, through the door behind Graham. 

“Morning, all!” Dean called out. “Anyone seen—” but his words were cut off as Graham’s weapon slammed into the side of his head. 

“Dean!” Aidan cried out, as the blonde went hurtling off the walkway and landed with a thud on the padding below.

“Oh my god!” Graham cried out, dropping the offending weapon. “Aidan… he… he came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry!”

Aidan shot the older man an accusing look and scaled quickly but carefully down the rock wall below the walkway to get to Dean. “Will someone please call medical?” he called up to the rest of the cast. “Dean…” he knelt next to his fallen friend. Dean lay on his stomach, one bracered arm thrown above his head. 

He moaned when Aidan touched his shoulder. “Dean, talk to me,” Aidan breathed, laying down next to the blond, pushing a curtain of golden hair and braids away from his obscured face. 

“Kíli,” Dean breathed weakly, but his eyes were unfocused. “Hurts.” Blood was trickling from somewhere under his hair and onto his cheek.

“Try not to move,” Aidan put a comforting hand on Dean’s back. “Help is coming.”

“Is he awake?” Graham, breathless, knelt across from Aidan.

Aidan raised his eyes to Graham, but didn’t say anything, as his heart raced in his chest. When he looked back down, Dean’s eyes were closed.


	2. Identity Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up, but he isn't Dean.

Ten long hours passed, and still Dean showed no signs of regaining consciousness. With all his costuming and fake hair gone, he appeared terribly small in the hospital bed, Aidan thought. 

Dean had been given an MRI when he arrived in the emergency room and the staff was unable to wake him. The small cut on his scalp was stitched. Then, once the physician was satisfied that the scan showed nothing worse than a grade three concussion, he’d been assigned a room and hooked up to some monitors for observation.

Aidan had been observing Dean lying there for hours. Seeing Dean so still and quiet was nerve-wracking. Members of the cast came and went throughout the day. Graham was especially inconsolable about his part in Dean’s injury.

“Any of us could have walked through that door, Graham,” Aidan told him, holding Dean’s hand in his own, “and any of us could have been the ones horsing around. You have _got_ to let this go, man.” 

“I will—maybe—when he wakes up,” Graham said sadly. “Until then, you have got to let me wallow in my guilt.”

“Deal,” Aidan agreed.

Aidan opted to stay the night in Dean’s room. _Insisted,_ was a more accurate description. He did doze fitfully, off and on, lulled by the rhythmic sound of Dean’s heart monitor. Yet, when morning light began to filter through the curtains, he was saddened to find Dean still unresponsive.

It was a Saturday, thank God, so Peter wouldn’t be expecting him on set today. There was no way he was leaving the room until Dean was awake and talking to him.

Richard showed up at the beginning of visiting hours with sausage breakfast crullers and coffee. 

“You, sir, are both psychic and god-like,” Aidan told him with a grin. “I’m famished.”

“Figured you might be,” Richard nodded sagely. “So, nothing yet then?”

Aidan shook his head sadly. 

“He took quite a knock,” Richard ruminated, eyes searching the blond for signs of waking. “I’m sure it won’t be long, Aidan. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health otherwise.”

“I wish that made me feel better,” Aidan sighed, tears welling up.

“Oh… hey…” Richard pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged Graham to carry on like that.”

“On any other day, it would have been me and Dean cutting up,” Aidan sniffed. “I’m right, aren’t I? Please, for the love of all that is holy, no more apologies.”

“No more apologies,” Richard rubbing his back soothingly. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

“I really needed this coffee,” Aidan cupped the warm Styrofoam in his hands. “I slept for shit last night.”

Richard sat with Aidan while he ate his breakfast. Martin and Adam dropped by, but didn’t stay terribly long. Both seemed at odds as to what to say to Aidan, and uncomfortable around an insensate Dean.

At 11:22 a.m., Dean began waking. His cold hand closed reflexively on Aidan’s and he let out a soft moan.

“Richard,” Aidan addressed the veteran actor, who was staring morosely out the window. “He’s coming around!”

At the sound of Aidan’s voice, Dean’s blue eyes fluttered open. 

“Hey,” Aidan smiled down at him, tightening his grip on Dean’s hand. 

Richard stepped up to the other side of Dean’s bed. “It’s good to see you awake,” he said softly.

Dean knitted his eyebrows in with a very Fíli-esque expression and pulled his hand free of Aidan’s. “W-where am I?” he asked softly, trying to sit up. “Aulë, my head hurts,” he announced, laying back weakly.

“You were injured, on set, yesterday morning,” Aidan told him. “You’ve been unconscious for over 24 hours.”

“Where’s my brother?” Dean wondered. “What is this place?” He looked terrified.

“Dean,” Aidan put a steadying hand on his arm, making a mental note to give Dean’s brother Brett a call. “It’s all right. You’re in a hospital.”

Dean shook off his hand. “Where are you keeping my brother? And my uncle? And the rest of my companions? Are they ‘injured’ as well?” he threw off his covers, clearly agitated. “And where are my armor and weapons?”

Aidan shot Richard a stricken glance, which the confused actor returned with a shrug. “Maybe he has amnesia.”

“I most certainly do _not_ have amnesia,” Dean said haughtily. “I know exactly who I am, human. I am Fíli, nephew of Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór—Heir of Durin and, Aulë willing, future King Under the Mountain.” He sat up on the edge of the bed. “I ask you again, where are my companions?”

Richard reached down next to the bed and pushed the button to call the nurse’s station.

“Fíli,” Aidan forced himself to say, kneeling in front of Dean, putting a hand on both of his thighs. “Let us get your doctor. He can help.”

“Unhand me!” Dean forcefully shoved Aidan away from him and against the wall. He got off the bed and began walking purposefully toward the open door, as Aidan watched, nearly in tears, unsure what to do or say next.

“Hold it,” Richard stood blocking the door. 

“You do not want to try and stop me,” Dean said, and Richard noticed the very Fíli-like pursing of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes and the powerful set of Dean’s shoulders.

“Actually, I do,” Richard said calmly. “You’re hurt. Adding more injury to that you’ve already sustained would be foolish.”

At that moment, a nurse appeared behind Richard. “What’s going on in here?” she wondered. “Oh good, you’re awake,” she said to Dean.

“He’s a trifle agitated and confused right now,” Richard told her.

“I am _not_ at all confused!” Dean cried. “Let me by!” trying to shove past Richard.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Fíli,” Richard said sadly, grasping his upper arms, firmly.

Assessing the situation, the nurse told Richard, “I’ll get something to calm him down, and I’ll call his doctor.” She quickly spun and retreated.

Aidan, meanwhile, had gotten to his feet. “You don’t remember who I am, then?” he asked Dean, trying hard not to panic.

Dean paused in his struggles, chest heaving with his efforts and took a good, long look at Aidan. “No,” he said finally. “I do not.” 

Dean lunged for the door, but Richard pulled him back into a restraining hold against his chest. “We have to keep him here, Aidan. He’ll get hurt,” Richard insisted. 

“You’re hurting him _now_ ,” Aidan cried, shaking.

“It is _I_ who shall do the hurting,” Dean insisted, “when I get loose. My uncle, the King, will bring down the wrath of Mahal on you and your kin for your mistreatment of his heir!”

“Your name is Dean O’Gorman,” Aidan’s wide eyes searched the blond’s face for any sign of recognition. “You’re an actor and… and an artist, and … my friend,” he pleaded, putting a hand on each of Dean’s cheeks.

“Aidan, be careful,” Richard cautioned, redoubling his grip on the wily blond.

“Perhaps you’re the one with amnesia,” Dean spat at Aidan, yanking his face from Aidan’s insistent hands, continuing to struggle against Richard’s grip.

“Alrighty,” the nurse sang, returning to the room with a syringe. “A little something to help calm you,” she said to Dean. “And then we’ll get you sorted out.” She turned to Richard. “Hold him steady for me?”

“What? No! No!” Dean cried, in genuine anguish. “Please, my family! I need my family!” his voice broke.

“I’m sorry, Fíli,” Richard whispered in his ear. He held Dean firmly against the wall while the nurse swabbed his upper arm with an alcohol swab and sank the needle into Dean’s flesh.

“Th-Thorin?” Dean relaxed at the sound of Richard’s voice in his ear.

“Yes, it’s me, Fíli,” Richard told him, using Thorin’s tone. “Get some rest. I’ll find your brother,” Richard locked eyes with Aidan, who had finally given in to his urge to cry.

“Let’s get him back to bed,” the nurse advised. “I’m sure the doctor will have some insight into why he’s acting this way.”

 _Acting,_ Aidan thought, as Richard eased a very compliant Dean onto the bed. Aidan pulled up the blankets and smoothed Dean’s hair away from his face, once he closed his eyes. _For once, he’s really not acting._

“Aidan, c’mon,” Richard held out an arm to the distraught Irishman. “We’ve got to call Peter and ask him to send make-up, properties and costuming down here.”

“W-what for?” Aidan wondered, eyes unwilling to leave Dean’s face.

“Because Fíli needs his brother and his uncle right now,” Richard said solemnly.


	3. Acting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan and Richard must pretend to be Kili and Thorin in order to accommodate Dean's amnesia.

Peter was very accommodating and sent four of the artists from make-up and one of the wardrobe mistresses to the hospital within the hour. Keeping very hush-hush about their reason for being there, Aidan and Richard were sequestered in a remote employee lounge on Dean’s wing and transformed into Kili and Thorin.

As Peggy put the finishing touches on Kili’s hair, she asked, “So, are you three doing some sort of benefit for the kids?”

“Something like that, yes,” Richard answered. “We’re so grateful you could make it here so quickly. It turned out to be a bit of a Dwarf emergency.”

“If you crooked your finger, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Mr. Armitage,” Peggy flirted with him. “What girl wouldn’t?”

“What _person_ wouldn’t?” Lance smiled at Richard as he fluffed out Thorin’s wig. “Those dreamy blue eyes…”

“That deep voice…” Peggy echoed.

“Don’t forget his bum!” Janet called out from across the room, as she folded and organized costumes.

Aidan rolled his eyes. “We should get going, _Thorin,_ ” he told the Brit.

Richard nodded. “That we should.” He stood up.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Aidan told the trio of artists. “I have a feeling we’ll be dressed like this for… awhile.” 

“Yes,” Lance’s eyes crinkled questioningly. “Peter mentioned you might need us in the morning for touch-ups.”

“You have our numbers,” Janet told them as the pair departed.

Walking down the hall, already overly warm in his full Kili regalia, Aidan turned to Richard. “I don’t quite see how this will help Dean. If anything, we’ll be prolonging his condition by playing along.”

“You saw him, _nephew,_ ” Richard corrected him. “Fili needs us right now. It’s the only thing keeping him from going off the deep end.”

“And what’s to keep us from going mad—with worry?” Aidan groused.

“Hopefully the doctor will have some advice. In the meantime, we have to keep Dean comfortable. And if that means placating your brother—as opposed to your lover—then that is what we will do.”

“And how do we explain… everything else?” Aidan threw up his hands. “Cars, cell phones, skyscrapers…”

“I suppose we cross that bridge when it’s absolutely necessary. It’ll be some serious improv,” Richard put a solid hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “Are you up for this, Kili?”

“You know I would go to the ends of the earth for him, uncle,” Aidan slipped effortlessly into Kili. “But my heart is breaking.”

Thorin nodded at him, curtly, and the pair stepped into Dean’s room.

Rochelle and Fred from make-up had just finished with Dean. 

“Well,” Fred raised his eyes to the pair entering. “This is the first time I’ve had to apply make-up to an unconscious person.”

“Something else to add to our resumes,” Rochelle smirked. “We did him from the neck up, as you requested.

“The doctor keeps coming and going,” Fred told them. “He thinks we’re insane.”

“He may be right,” Aidan told them. “But thank you so much for coming in on a Saturday to do this,” he thanked the artists as they departed. “It means a lot to Dean’s recovery.”

They’d put Fili’s hair, mustache and prosthetic nose on Dean. “It’ll help,” Richard assured Aidan. “Earlier, he was too upset to notice his hair was gone. If he looks in a mirror, we don’t want him freaking out.”

A middle-aged Indian man entered the room. “I’m Dr. Banerjee,” he told Aidan and Richard. “I’m Mr. O’Gorman’s neurologist.” He shook hands with the actors, who in turned introduced themselves. “I understand Mr. O’Gorman regained consciousness thinking he was,” he looked down at his clipboard, “Fili, a character from _The Hobbit?_ ”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Aidan explained. “You see, he’s been portraying Fili now for seven months, day-in and day-out. In fact, we were on the set in costume when he was hurt. He actually called me by my character’s name before he passed out.”

“I did a little research when I heard about Mr. O’Gorman’s unusual symptoms,” Dr. Banerjee told them. “There have actually been two other documented instances of this happening. The first was back in the 1950s. A Broadway actress took a tumble down some stairs and when she awoke in the hospital some time later, she was convinced she was her stage persona. In the late 1990s, a cruise ship actor hit his head while diving into a pool. Same thing. He awoke from a two-week coma and, for all intents and purposes, had become his character.”

“And how did those cases turn out?” Richard voiced the concern both he and Aidan were feeling.

“Drastically different, I’m afraid,” the doctor told them. “The actress regained her memories within a few days. The drowning victim went mad. He currently resides in a psychiatric hospital in Italy.”

Aidan sank into the chair next to Dean’s bed and took Dean’s cold hand into his own. “We have got to hope for the best possible outcome,” Aidan told them. 

“What do we do now?” Richard asked the doctor.

“We wait for him to awaken again,” Dr. Banerjee told them. “Then we assess.”

Another two hours passed before Dean began to regain consciousness for the second time. Dr. Banerjee had stepped out to check on some other patients. 

“I’ll go find the physician,” Thorin stood. “You stay with Fili,” he told his raven-haired nephew, who nodded. “Be sensible, Kili,” Thorin admonished, before he left.

Aidan decided to gauge Dean’s mental state this time before he spoke and upset him. Dean’s eyes were huge.

“ _Khâzash!_ ” he said softly, reaching for Kili’s face. “I’m so glad to see you. I had the most horrible dream.” Then, Dean had a chance to look at his surroundings a bit. “I guess it wasn’t completely fanciful,” he said sadly. “I’m still in this place.”

“I’m here now, Fili,” Aidan pulled in close and lay his forehead against the blond’s. “I was so very worried about you.” Aidan’s heart fell to his shoes when he realized Dean still believed he was actually Fili.

“My head,” Fili said weakly. “It hurts terribly.”

“Dwalin was sparring with Uncle,” Aidan explained. “And his hammer caught you in the head when you stepped too close. You were unconscious almost a full day.”

“That would explain the pain and dizziness,” Fili squeezed his brother’s hand. “Where are we?”

“This is a hospital,” Aidan told him. “It’s where humans bring their sick and injured to receive treatment. I should warn you, your doctor is human. Don’t be alarmed.”

“I won’t,” Fili promised, sighing and closing his eyes. “I feel like I could sleep for—” 

“Hello,” Thorin cautiously poked his head into the room.

“Uncle,” Fili greeted him. Aidan shot Richard a look and shook his head sadly.

“It’s nice to see you awake, nephew,” Thorin sat down next to Kili. “You were badly hurt.”

“So Kili tells me. I do still have a fierce headache,” the blonde confessed. “But I am ready to go home. Can I go home?”

“Soon, Fili,” Richard assured him. “But will you allow the doctor to examine you first?”

“I suppose so,” Fili eyed Dr. Banerjee warily as the man entered the room with a clipboard.

“It’s a treat to finally catch you with your eyes open,” the doctor smiled warmly and sat in the chair on the other side of Fili’s bed. “For doctors, it’s commonplace to ask some questions to someone who’s been knocked unconscious and recently wakened. Will you indulge me with some answers, Fili?”

“I can try,” Fili told him, eyes wide.

“What is your name?” the doctor asked.

“My name is Fili.”

“Do you have a surname?”

“I am of the line of Durin,” Fili replied.

“Do you know where you are?”

“My brother has told me this is a human medical facility,” Fili squeezed Aidan’s hand gratefully.

“Do you remember what you were doing when you were hurt?” The doctor made some notations.

“I was,” Fili began. “We were traveling. I was traveling with my uncle and brother—and some others—to Erebor.”

The doctor made some more notations. “Do you know what year it is, Fili?”

“I—I’m not sure,” Fili said quietly. “It is summer time. That I know.”

“And who are these two?” the doctor indicated Aidan and Richard. 

“My uncle Thorin and my younger brother, Kili,” Fili told Dr. Banerjee.

“Is there someone… special… in your life?” the doctor asked the blond. “Someone you are romantically involved with?”

“N-no. Not yet,” Fili told him. 

Aidan’s heart felt like it would shatter, and he could scarcely breathe. Only Richard’s warm hand on his knee kept him from screaming.

“Do you recognize anyone in this photo?” The doctor produced a picture of Dean with his brother Brett and their parents, taken that previous year at a banquet.

Fili took the picture from Dr. Banerjee and spent a moment studying it. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I—should I?”

Aidan blinked, and a tear fell onto his lap. He tried to comprehend not recognizing his own mother, or forgetting about everything that he and Dean had shared in the past six months. It seemed impossible and horrifying.

“ _Nadadel?_ ” Fili squeezed Aidan’s hand tightly and pulled him towards him. “What troubles you?”

“I’m just so relieved you’re awake and speaking, Fili,” Aidan assured him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“You’re shaking,” Fili told him, embracing him. “Kili, you will never, ever lose me. When we go to the maker, we go together. Like we’d always planned.”

“Like we’d always planned,” Kili sniffed, nodding, trance-like.


	4. Runes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bracelet ...and some hope.

_“I adore you,_ khâzash, _” Fili told him, one hand firmly gripping Kili’s dark mane. “I came so close to losing you today.”_

_“I never want to feel that way again, as long as I live,_ kidhuzel, _” Kili affirmed. “And I shall never again be able to bear the sound of rocks grinding together. It shall be the sound of my worst nightmares.” The dark haired dwarf slotted his mouth over Fili’s and pulled their bodies tight against one another in the deepest recesses of the cave in which the party had sought shelter._

_“If only we had more privacy!” Fili lamented. “The others—”_

_“Let them hear us,” Kili began removing his brother’s fur overlay. “Let them_ see _us, for all I care.”_

_“Brother, we cannot!” Fili insisted, but his fingers betrayed him by undoing the laces of his Kili’s pants._

_“Yes,” Kili began kissing Fili’s bare chest. “We can.”_

\-------

“Oh, boy,” Dean chuckled around a mouthful of popcorn. “That’s… really dreadful stuff.” The pair had taken to reading fan fiction late at night as part of their foreplay.

“You think?” Aidan pouted. “I rather liked that one. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Total cheese,” Dean proclaimed, reaching for his can of Coke. “We need to find better sites, Aid.”

“Clearly you and I remember that day on the mountain differently,” Aidan sighed, looking away.

“What ‘day on the mountain’?” Dean scoffed. “It was a sound stage—hardly a mountain. We were never more than four feet from the actual ground.” Dean stopped over-analyzing when he saw the hurt look in Aidan’s expressive brown eyes.

Aidan sat his bowl of popcorn aside and closed the laptop the two had been looking at. He got up from the bed and went out to his trailer’s small kitchenette. When Dean followed him a moment later, he found Aidan staring out the window into the rain.

“Hey,” Dean came up behind Aidan and wrapped his arms around the brunet’s slim waist, pulling him close. “Aid, I’m sorry,” Dean told him quietly. “I didn’t mean to downplay it.”

“Filming the stone giant scene was bloody awful for me,” Aidan admitted, not turning around. “It was emotionally demanding during filming, yes. But after…”

“After?” Dean lay his head gently against Aidan’s back. 

“Before that day I never really considered what it might be like to lose you, Dean,” Aidan said softly, watching raindrops run down the window pane. “And now,” he sighed. “I think about it a lot.”

Dean took a deep breath and put a firm hand on each of Aidan’s shoulders, turning the taller man around to face him. “I love your tender heart,” Dean cupped Aidan’s face with one hand. “I love everything about you, Aidan.”

“I just get so morose sometimes,” Aidan lay his forehead against Dean’s. “I’m not sure where it springs from.”

“Maybe it’s Kili trying to assert himself. He is a moody little fucker,” Dean grinned.

“That he is,” Aidan petted Dean’s hair. “But he has his reasons. And thinking about a world without Fili really sets him off.”

“I never want to be apart from you, Aidan,” Dean assured him. “Our jobs are crazy, and I know we haven’t completely worked out what comes next. But I love you. I love _us,_ together.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled something out. “I’ve been carrying this around for a week,” he explained with a nervous chuckle. “Don’t freak out!” he cautioned when Aidan’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “It’s not a ring.”

Dean held up a bracelet—a simple black leather bracelet, the ends tied to a thick metal charm. “In an ideal world, this would be mithril,” he smiled. “But I hope platinum will do.” He held the bracelet out to Aidan.

Aidan took the jewelry in his trembling hand and walked over to the light above the sink so he could look at it more carefully. The metal was about two inches wide and fashioned to look distressed. There was strange writing on each side. “These are Dwarven runes,” he marveled, running his fingers over the writing. “What does it say?”

“One side says ‘Dean’ and the other side says ‘Aidan,’” Dean told him. “I got one made for myself as well.” He smiled expectantly at his boyfriend. “Do you like it?”

Aidan raised his eyes to meet Dean’s. They were wet with unshed tears. “I love it,” he said quietly. “Help me put it on?”

\-------

That exchange had taken place only a month ago. Aidan knew he probably shouldn’t be wearing the bracelet at the hospital, but it was hidden under his gauntlet. He wondered if Dean had any recollection at all of buying it—or if he ever would again. 

Three a.m. was a dreary time to be in a hospital. Try as he might, Aidan couldn’t sleep. Richard had gone down to the lounge to try his luck on one of the sofas over four hours earlier. Aidan lay his head down on the pillow next to Dean’s and managed to doze a bit, but it didn’t last long.

“Aidan?” he startled at the sound of his name. “Aidan, where are you?” It was Dean, calling his name. With sadness, he realized that Dean wasn’t awake, but was talking in his sleep. 

_But he said my name,_ Aidan thought. _MY name._

“I’m right here, Dean,” he took Dean’s hand. “I’m right here.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered open and he looked more than a bit confused.

“Oh… Kili,” he sighed. “I just had the most peculiar dream. I was with someone—someone very much like you,” Fili’s eyes were wide. “But he was different too. And I loved him.”

“As much as you love me, _nadad?_ ” Aidan felt compelled to ask him, laying his forehead against Dean’s.

“I love no one more than I love you, Kili,” and he drifted back off to sleep.

Holding Dean’s hand in his own, Aidan finally fell asleep as well. He dreamed of Dean, scared and alone, trapped on a moving wall of rock.


	5. Questions, Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean begins to remember something, but he isn't sure why.

Fili was dreaming. He was riding his pony, Jasper, through the woods. He could smell the balsam, the loam and the rich dark earth in the shade of the ancient trees. Normally, he and Kili rode in the back of the party, but this time, there was no one in front of him. He turned around, and there, a few yards behind, was his brother.

Kili’s face broke into an easy, wide smile when his eyes met Fili’s.

“Where are the others, _khâzash?_ ” Fili wondered, alarmed.

“What others?” Kili shrugged. “There is only you and me, Fili.” Kili egged his brown pony on with his heels and trotted ahead of him on the trail. “C’mon, brother! Keep up if you can!” The breeze caught his dark hair as his mount broke into a gallop.

Fili encouraged Jasper to follow, and the grey pony did, eager to stretch his legs. “Wait for me, cheater!” he cried, enjoying the undulation of his steed beneath him.

At once, the scene changed. Fili was no longer in the woods, nor was he still riding Jasper. He was, however, still riding. He looked down to find his hands splayed on a naked chest. His blond hair cascaded over his shoulders and he realized he too was naked. Sparks of pleasure shot through him and he blushed, realizing he was on the receiving end of a good fucking.

He raised his eyes to see who his sexual partner was. Beneath him, eyes closed in bliss, was the man who had been sitting next to him when he woke up in the hospital. “A-Aidan?” Fili said the name experimentally, and the man’s chocolate brown eyes opened. “You’re Aidan,” Fili sped up his hips.

“Of course I am, love,” the man said softly. His curly dark hair was wet with perspiration and he dug his fingers into Fili’s hips as he came.

Fili followed him over the edge, and woke up with a gasp, Aidan’s name on his lips.

\-------

Early morning light filtered through the windows next to his bed, and his brother’s head lay on the pillow next to his, his arm wrapped loosely around his chest. It looked like a terribly uncomfortable position. Fili reached down to move the arm so he could relieve himself and get cleaned up.

Kili’s bracer was askew. From beneath it poked a shining metal charm on a dark leather cord, wrapped around his wrist. Fili felt as if he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t decipher the strange lettering. 

Carefully moving his brother’s arm aside so as not to disturb his slumber, Fili got out of bed and shuffled to the washroom.

Fili looked in the mirror and thought he looked too pale and emaciated in the artificial light. His hair felt itchy and out of place, but he was afraid to touch or scratch. Kili told him that he had stitches under there somewhere. He wanted them to get better. The sooner they got better, the sooner he could go home.

When he left the washroom, Thorin was sitting in the room’s other chair. “Good morning,” his uncle said to him.

“Good morning, Uncle,” Fili returned. He thought Thorin looked a bit sad at his response. Perhaps he too was concerned with Fili’s appearance. “Kili’s exhausted,” he indicated his brother, to change the subject.

“His back will be paining him when he wakes up,” Thorin noted.

“Mine pains me now,” Fili admitted.

“You fell when you were hit—some distance, in fact,” Thorin informed him. “I’m not surprised your back is hurting. We can get you something for the pain.”

Fili nodded. “Uncle,” he began, “what can you tell me about this?” he indicated the bracelet on Aidan’s wrist, peeking out from under his bracer.

Richard huffed. He had seen the bracelets before. Both Aidan and Dean owned them. _Damn you, Aidan,_ Richard groaned inwardly. _What are you trying to do?_

“Y-your mother gave it to Kili when you left to come with me to Erebor,” Richard hastily made up on the spot. 

“Oh,” Fili said sadly, looking away.

“Are you all right, nephew?”

“Y-yes,” Fili sat down on the bed and ran his finger over the metal part of the bracelet. “I just felt, for some reason, that the bracelet was—” he paused.

“Was what?” Thorin prompted.

“I thought maybe I had made it. It _felt_ as if I had made it. Are you sure that I did not?” he wondered, brows knit in confusion.

“You did make it,” Richard told him. “You made it for your mother to give to Kili.”

Fili sighed in relief. “That explains why I feel as I do. I feel like the bracelet has significance.”

“It means a great, great deal,” Thorin nodded. “It’s a symbol of a powerful love.”

“Yes,” Fili nodded. “Thorin, what are these words?” he indicated the runes.

“Your names. Yours, and his,” Richard pointed to Aidan, relieved to be answering honestly for a change. Dean seemed especially confused this morning. Richard was worried about what that might mean.

Fili grew very quiet after Richard ‘explained’ the bracelet situation to him. It was as if he were trying to process it all. He pulled up the covers and snuggled down next to Kili, pulling his brother’s arm back over his waist. He lay there in silence, carding Kili’s hair with his fingers. Finally, he asked, “Thorin?”

“Yes, Fili?”

“Who is Aidan? What is he to me?” Dean’s eyes were huge and impossibly blue.

At the sound of his name, Aidan stirred and opened his eyes blearily.

“Good morning, Kili,” Richard said pointedly, to help acclimate the brunet to the situation.

“Oh, Thorin,” Aidan said despondently. “Hello. Good morning, Fili,” he gave the blond’s hand a squeeze.

“Thorin was about to help me with the answer to a question,” Fili told him. “Maybe you can help as well.”

“I can try, _nadad,_ ” Kili said, with caution, catching the keep-your-gob-shut look in Richard’s eye.

“I was hoping you could tell me about—” 

“Breakfast!” a scrub-clad cafeteria worker arrived pushing a cart full of food containers. “Good stuff today, too,” she winked at Dean. “It’ll put some color in your cheeks.” She rolled out the overbed table and plunked down a circular covered dish, some milk and juice. “Sorry, but you two gentlemen are on your own,” she smiled at Aidan and Richard. “See you at lunchtime!” she trilled, leaving the trio in silence.

“Let’s get you set up, Fili,” Richard opened the cover on the dish to reveal scrambled eggs, sausage and toast. “This smell is making me hungry,” he shot Aidan a meaningful look. “What say we go scare up some breakfast of our own, nephew?”

“Uh… okay, Uncle,” Aidan stood, looking terribly confused. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Fili pouted. 

“We shall,” Thorin told him. “If that plate is clean when we return. You need to eat to get back to health, Fili.”

“Very well,” the blond agreed, picking up a sausage.

“We won’t be long, brother,” Kili assured him, as he and Richard left the room.

Once they were in the hallway and out of earshot of Dean, Richard muttered, “Lounge— _now!_ ” He grabbed Aidan’s arm and practically dragged the Irishman down the hall.

Once they were inside the secluded employee lounge, Richard shut the door and slammed Aidan against the wall. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Turner?” he exploded.

“W-what?” Aidan cringed and blinked sleepily. “I didn’t say anything, Richard. I’ve been super, super careful.”

“You call this careful?” Richard grabbed Aidan’s right arm and showed him the bracelet. “Dean saw this and asked me about it.”

“Oh,” Aidan deflated, hand guiltily covering the piece of jewelry. “I had intended to keep it hidden.”

“Well, you failed,” Richard spat, sinking exasperated into a chair.

“W-what did you tell him?” Aidan sat cautiously across from him.

“He somehow got the idea in his head that he made the bracelet—”

“He did, sort of.”

“He didn’t understand the runes, thank God. I told him the names were Kili and Fili,” the anger was leaving Richard’s tone. “And then,” he sighed, “then he asked me who Aidan was.”

“H-he did?” Aidan’s eyes were wide.

“Yes, right before you woke up.”

“We have to tell him. I have to show him!” Aidan leapt to his feet.

“How? By changing from Kili to Aidan in front of him?” Richard scoffed. “That’ll freak him right the fuck out.”

“Do you think he wants to see me? See Aidan?” Aidan asked the Brit. 

“I think that’s a very good possibility,” Richard mused. “It might not be a bad idea.”

“What if he freaks? I couldn’t take that again,” Aidan bit his lower lip.

“He won’t,” Richard decided. “Your clothes are still here in the locker. Get out of your costume, use the shower in there,” he waved toward the employee washroom, “and go see him… as yourself.”

Aidan didn’t have to be asked twice.

Fili, meanwhile, did as his uncle asked and finished his breakfast. Afterwards, he accepted some pain medication from his nurse, who told him that he could use the washroom to bathe, but not get his hair wet quite yet. She gave him a towel and washcloth and left him in privacy, setting out a clean hospital gown and a thin blue robe. His body seemed to know exactly what to do mechanically, to get the water to turn warm, and how to use soap. 

He bathed as thoroughly as he could, given the limitations, and left his dirty clothing behind, putting on the new sweet-smelling hospital johnny and robe. She had even left warm blue stockings for his feet, for which Fili was very grateful. He was just getting up to see what he could do with his tangled mess of hair when there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” he called out. “You may come in.”

The door opened and the strange-yet-familiar man from his dreams stepped inside. His curly dark hair appeared freshly washed and towel dried. He stood just inside the door and smiled a small nervous smile at Fili. 

“Aidan?” Fili asked him.

“Yes,” the brunet answered cautiously.

“I’ve been having dreams about you,” Fili told him.


	6. My One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan gives Dean a reason to remember him.

“I’ve been having dreams about you,” Fili told him, locking his blue eyes with Aidan’s.

Aidan blushed and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans self-consciously. “You don’t say.”

“Will you sit with me?” Fili indicated two chairs by the window. “I took some medicine and I’m feeling a little—”

“Light-headed?” Aidan held the chair steady as Fili sank into it. 

“You could say that, yes. In fact, that describes it perfectly,” Fili’s eyes fell to Aidan’s wrists, eyes not finding what he thought he might.

“Thorin said you were feeling confused as well,” Aidan encouraged Fili to speak. “That you had questions.”

“I just feel… foolish, mainly,” Fili sighed. “I have since I woke up here. I realize that I was belligerent at first, and I’m very sorry about that,” he told Aidan, looking down at his lap. “But I am ready now to hear what you have to say.”

“Are you sure?” Aidan leaned and brushed one of many errant Fili-hairs out of Dean’s face so he could look him in the eyes.

“Y-yes,” Fili said with certainty. “But first, I have a question for you.”

“All right then,” Aidan smiled. “Let’s have it.”

Fili took in a deep breath. “Who am I to you? The truth.”

Aidan templed his fingers and leaned his forehead against them, as he tried to figure out how to answer. Finally, he reached out and took one of Dean’s hands in his own. “You are …my One,” he told him.

Fili didn’t answer him, just stared down at their entwined fingers.

“I tried to tell you, but you seemed so scared,” Aidan explained. 

“I am _still_ scared,” Fili said quietly. “But this helps me understand my dreams. I have had dreams about you and I being... intimate. I realize now that these may not be dreams, but memories.”

Aidan nodded. “I imagine so.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a strip of photos, handing them to Fili.

The photos had been purchased at a carnival booth a few weeks earlier, at a street fair in Wellington. It was a strip of four black and white images. The first two were a bit out of focus, as it was clear the subjects were trying to get comfortable in a small space. On the third, Aidan was palming the cheek of a blond man and in the final picture he had pulled him in for a kiss. On Aidan’s wrist, in the picture, was the bracelet. 

With a trembling hand, Fili turned the strip over. On the back was written _Me and Dean, August 2011_. Fili turned the strip over again and gazed at the pictures, then up at Aidan. Finally, he asked, “W-who is Dean?”

Aidan swallowed audibly and cupped Fili’s cheek as he had cupped Dean’s in the photo. “You are,” and he leaned in and kissed him. When Fili didn’t pull away, Aidan uttered a small cry and embraced him, deepening the kiss. Finally, Aidan pulled away, breathless. “Dean,” he whispered, laying his forehead against the blond’s. “Say… something.”

Dean’s eyes were huge and his face still questioning. He touched his own lips with a trembling hand, then picked up the strip of photos again. He spent an uncomfortably long time looking at them. He reached up and touched his lips, hand moving to his braided, beaded mustache and beard, then to his long hair. “Th-that’s not me,” he said, sounding like a little boy.

“It is, darling,” Aidan rose, taking Dean’s hand. “Come here,” he led him to the washroom. Dean winced as the harsh light turned on. Aidan turned Dean to face the mirror and stood behind him. “Do you trust me?” he asked the trembling blond.

Dean could only nod, gripping the sink as if to ground himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Aidan fiddled with Dean’s hair. “I just want to show you… _this,_ ” Dean heard a small snapping sound next to his ear, then Aidan handed him one of his braids. 

Dean gasped and took the golden plait into his hand. 

“Look,” Aidan told him. “It’s got a clip on the end where it hooks into your actual hair. It’s not real,” he squeezed the tiny alligator clip and it opened and closed. “They all come off,” Aidan told him. “And so does,” he raised his hand to the golden mustache. 

Dean still didn’t speak, but raised his hand to his head, feeling the hair. Aidan’s words explained why it itched so much, and didn’t feel as if it belonged on his head. “C-can you remove everything that isn’t real?” he asked Aidan. “I want to see.”

“I can try,” Aidan told him. “There may be some adhesive on your face and I don’t want to hurt you. But he was already reaching for one of the larger weaves on the back of Dean’s head and detaching it. The action itself didn’t hurt, but Dean left out a frightened cry when Aidan handed him the golden fall. The more hair Aidan removed, the smaller Dean appeared in the mirror. Yet at the same time, Dean felt piece after piece of his memories fall into place.

Soon, several hair appliances and five braids were piled up on the counter and Dean simply stood staring at them. His reverie was broken when Aidan wrapped his arms around him from behind. His body gave in to the familiar, safe feeling. “I love you so much,” Aidan told him. “I was going mad seeing you suffer.” Aidan placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

Dean nodded. He could feel his body responding to Aidan’s voice. He turned to face the brunet and hugged him, burying his face in Aidan’s shoulder.

Aidan could feel the hardness beginning in Dean’s crotch and was torn about how to address it. He found himself backing Dean up against the bathroom counter and lifting the slighter man a bit to sit on the counter facing him, putting them eye to eye. “My One,” he smiled at Dean.

“Show me,” Dean finally spoke. 

Aidan turned and locked the washroom door, dropping to his knees in front of Dean. Solemnly he looked up, brown eyes worshipful. He very slowly pushed Dean’s knees apart until he could fit his shoulders between them. Then, he lifted the blue terry cloth of Dean’s robe away, revealing his muscular legs, still ridiculously covered by the hospital johnny. He leaned to the left, kissing the inside of Dean’s left knee, then the right, hand cupping the outside of Dean’s legs from underneath.

Dean gave a gasp of pleasured surprise and let his head fall back against the mirror, opening himself further to Aidan. Aidan took the invitation and began kissing and licking his way reverently up the inside of Dean’s thigh. Dean whimpered and threaded one of his hands in Aidan’s dark curls. 

Aidan redoubled his efforts, placing one of Dean’s knees over his shoulder. Then, he uncovered Dean’s beautiful cock, jutting eagerly from a nest of curls just slightly darker than the hair on his head. Before proceeding, he raised his eyes to Dean, asking permission.

“He remembers you, apparently,” Dean spoke, indicating his dick. “I trust him.” Dean’s voice was thick with desire, which always spurred Aidan on. Aidan licked his lips and Dean’s hips made an unconscious thrust in the brunet’s direction.

Aidan smiled and licked a hot line up the inside of Dean’s left thigh, and ended by closing his mouth around the tip of Dean’s cock. Dean let out a deep groan of desire and encouraged Aidan by digging his heels gently but firmly into Aidan’s mid-back. Aidan grabbed his boyfriend’s warm, tight little ass with both hands and drew Dean’s entire length into his mouth and throat.

Dean’s head spun with a pleasurable sensation he well remembered. As he grew closer and closer to climax, he entwined his fingers in Aidan’s thick curls and called out his name, “Aidan,” he breathed. “Aidan!” 

Aidan hummed around Dean’s length and slipped just one finger along the crack of Dean’s ass in a way he knew drove his boyfriend crazy. Seconds later, Dean was shooting his load down Aidan’s throat and Aidan was holding onto the thrashing blond for dear life. Afterwards, he smiled up at the debauched man above him and got to his feet, reaching for a Dixie cup and taking a few sips of water. 

“Let me take care of you,” Dean suggested.

Aidan shook his head. “No, Dean. This is about you, and your recovery,” he reached into the front pocket of his obviously erection-tented jeans. He produced the bracelet. “This bracelet is mine, as you saw in the photo. You had it made for me. You have one as well. But it’s at home. Would you like to wear this until you come home?”

Dean nodded and held out his right arm. “Yes. Tie it on me?” Aidan complied.

Dean smiled, admiring the bracelet. Then he yawned hugely. “I believe the medicine is making me tired,” he told Aidan. “I should lie down.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Aidan stepped away from Dean and unlocked the door of the washroom to give Dean space to leave. 

Wincing at the pain in his back, Dean hopped off the counter, wavering unsteadily on his feet.

“C’mon,” Aidan offered him his arm and assisted Dean into bed. Aidan pulled the blankets up around Dean, who was fading fast. “What did they give you for the pain?” Aidan wondered, picking up Dean’s chart. “Oh shit, Vicodin. No wonder you’re so tired, mate,” he leaned over to kiss Dean on the forehead. 

“Aidan,” Dean grasped his hand. “Please. Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Only if you promise to remember me when you do,” Aidan smiled.

“I promise,” Dean chuckled. “Aidan, I promise.”


	7. Lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard checks on the boys. Dean is illin'.

Richard waited. 

He wanted to give Aidan time to talk with Dean—or whatever else might transpire. Of course, that didn’t stop him from waiting right outside Dean’s room in the hallway, listening intently for the slightest sound of trouble. While he wasn’t able to hear their entire conversation, he did hear Dean cry out “Aidan!’ in a most passionate voice. Clearly, Aidan had made some progress. Richard smiled fondly.

At 10 a.m., Dr. Banerjee approached the door, whistling cheerfully and carrying a clipboard. “And how’s the young man this morning?” the doctor asked.

“I haven’t been in to see him yet. Aidan’s been with him for almost two hours,” Richard told the doctor. “And he’s not in costume. I think Dean might be getting some memories back. I was afraid to go in because I thought they might be getting… amorous. I also wasn’t sure if it would be Thorin or Richard that Dean wanted to see today.”

“Well, what say we find out?” the doctor gave the door three gentle knocks, then three slightly louder ones. When no one responded, he opened the door. The pair found both Dean and Aidan, sound asleep. Dean’s prosthetic hair had all been removed, except for his braided mustache. Aidan was curled up in a chair next to the bed, snoring softly, one hand protectively on Dean’s shoulder and a blanket pulled around him.

“Well, this looks encouraging, doesn’t it?” Dr. Banerjee smiled. “A stripping away of one identity to make room for new memories.” He made some notes on his clipboard and picked up Dean’s chart. “I see our patient had some Vicodin for his back pain this morning. He may be sleeping for quite a while. It might be in your best interest to put on your street clothes; even take a break for awhile and let the young men sort things out,” he told Richard, who nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice. This get-up is bloody hot,” Richard leaned forward and pulled the blanket up to cover more of Aidan. “I’ll check back on set and come back this evening,” he said, casting one last worried look at Dean before he left.

\- - - - - - 

A few hours later, Aidan was awoken by a growl from his own neglected stomach, prompted by the aroma of food.

He opened his eyes to find Dean eating a plate of macaroni and cheese. “I didn’t want to wake you,” Dean said. “You seemed to need your rest.”

“And now I need food. God, that smells incredible. I skipped breakfast, too,” Aidan lamented, eyeing the meal covetously. “I see you took off the mustache.”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed the naked spot beneath his nose, “It hurt a bit peeling off that glue, but it itched like the dickens. It had to go.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Dean insisted. “Well, mostly. My head’s been throbbing. The doctor said it was probably from hunger, so he forced me to eat this pile of carbs,” he smacked his lips. “It’s torture, I tell you.”

“All right, that’s it!” Aidan leaned in and snagged the container of applesauce sitting on the corner of Dean’s tray. “You’re killing me here. I’m famished.” Aidan quickly dispatched the small snack. “I am totally going for a burger soon,” he promised. “Oh, look,” he noticed a clipboard sitting next to Dean’s lunch tray. 

“Yeah. The doctor left it for me. Nice chap,” Dean commented. “I’m supposed to write down the answers to all the questions on the top page,” he frowned. “Care to scribe for me?”

“Sure thing, love,” Aidan picked up the clipboard and held the pen poised. “Okay, question number one… who is the sexiest man alive?" Aidan grinned.

“That is _not_ one of the questions, but to satisfy your curiosity, I’m going to go with …Ryan Gosling.”

“Oh no!” Aidan clutched his chest. “I am deeply, deeply wounded.”

Dean chuckled. “Read the damn questions already.” He covered up his half-eaten meal and pushed his tray table away. 

“Not hungry?” Aidan wondered.

“Head hurts,” Dean explained. “The food’s just sitting in there like a lead weight,” he put his hand over his stomach and lay his head back on the pillow. “Please, read the questions.”

“Okay, okay,” Aidan squeezed his hand and smiled. “What is your name?” 

“Dean Lance O’Gorman,” Dean said with confidence. 

“Your middle name is Lance?” Aidan smiled broadly. 

“You find that funny?”

“I find it… appropriate,” Aidan chuckled. “Age?”

“I’m 34.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital in Wellington. You never told me the name.”

“I’m not sure I ever noticed the name,” Aidan dutifully wrote down what Dean said. “I haven’t left since you were brought in.”

“Really?” Dean’s eyes misted over.

“Yeah, really,” Aidan squeezed hand. “Would you have left me?”

“No,” Dean cleared his throat, pointing at the clipboard. “You can write that down, too.”

“Do you remember what you were doing when you were hurt?” Aidan smiled.

“We were making a movie. _The Hobbit,_ ” Dean nodded.

“Do you know what year it is?”

“2011.”

“Is there someone special in your life?” Aidan locked eyes with Dean. “Someone you are romantically involved with?”

Dean returned his unwavering gaze, but then suddenly raised his hand to his mouth. “C-can you help me to the toilet?”

Aidan leapt from his chair, tossing the clipboard aside and supported Dean as he rushed to the open washroom. He barely made it in time to fall to his knees and vomit into the porcelain receptacle. “Ugh, God,” Dean moaned. “I shouldn’t have eaten.”

Aidan kept a steadying hand on Dean’s back as he retched again; then he reached over to flush the vile stuff away. “Oh, darlin’,” the brunet said soothingly. “I’m so, so sorry. Let me get you some water.”

Dean nodded, still nauseous and not ready to rise. He accepted the Dixie cup with a trembling hand, took a sip and spat into the toilet; then he repeated the action. “Better,” he returned the water to Aidan. “I have got to get something for this pain in my head.”

“I’ll call the nurse in once you’re back in bed, sweetheart,” Aidan assured him. “The second page of that clipboard had a list of post-concussion symptoms on it. Nausea, vomiting, dizziness and pain were all on the list. I know how you love lists.”

“Mmhmm,” Dean lay his head against the cool porcelain, “more than life itself.”

“The good news is, I’ve completely lost my appetite as well,” Aidan kissed the top of his head. “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

“Fuck you, Turner,” Dean huffed. “Is there a spot on the questionnaire for that?”

“We’ll save that for when you’re home on the lot,” Aidan rubbed his shoulders gently, but suggestively. “Ready to get back into bed?”

“Let’s give it a go,” Dean said softly. “I’m really, really dizzy though,” he admitted. 

“We’ll take it as slow as necessary,” Aidan assured him, slipping his hands underneath Dean’s armpits and helping him to his feet.

Dean took a few deep breaths—in through his nose and out through his mouth—in an effort to stop his head from spinning. “This officially sucks,” he announced quietly, as Aidan eased him into bed and pulled up the covers.

“It’s supposed to improve a bit each day,” Aidan told him, cupping his cheek. “I’ll go get the nurse.”

Dean nodded.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was pain-free and sound asleep. Mentally exhausted, Aidan found himself in the chair dozing off again, when a soft knock on the door roused him.

“Graham,” he smiled at the veteran actor, and rose to hug him. “You came back.”

“Aye, I did. I had to see how the lad was doing,” Graham sat down in the chair across from Aidan. 

“He just took some strong pain meds, so he probably won’t be awake for awhile,” Aidan told him. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t come here for conversation,” Graham assured him. “I just wanted to check on his welfare. I’m happy just to sit here and watch him breathe. Richard told us he’s gotten his memory back.”

“It does seem that way,” Aidan nodded. “He was really ill, vomiting, about 30 minutes ago. It’s from the concussion, they say.”

Graham nodded sadly and took Dean’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whispered to the sleeping blond.

“He’s going to be okay,” Aidan said, more to himself than anyone. “He is.”


	8. Laphroaig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some good news, and we all get a happy ending.

When Aidan returned to the hospital that evening, Richard insisted again on coming along. Aidan was really touched by Richard’s concern. On some level, he’d accepted that Richard liked him and Dean, but in the past few days, he’d realized that it was almost as if Richard was bringing Thorin’s sense of duty—his need to take care of his nephews—into reality. And, to be honest, Dean had a way of charming everyone he met. He’d clearly won Richard over.

When the pair arrived at Dean’s room, they found Dean and Graham playing checkers. 

“He cheats,” Graham announced.

“He’s a sore loser,” Dean countered, winking at Aidan. “Oh, what have you got there?” Dean recognized the familiar bag in Aidan’s hand, from a café they frequented that had the most delicious soups in the world. “Is that—?” 

“Eleanor’s famous turkey tetrazzini soup!” Aidan said with flourish. “Thought it might calm your stomach.”

“That soup is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Dean beamed. “Well—second favorite,” he reached for Aidan’s hand.

Graham chuckled, getting up to offer his seat to Aidan. “Come on then, lad. Sit here. I can’t take much more abuse from this one,” he smiled at Dean. 

“Says the gob who whacked me in the head with a war hammer,” Dean deadpanned.

“I see your memory is very much intact,” Richard patted Dean on the shoulder. 

“The doctor came by earlier,” Graham told them. “He said Dean’s case is going to be written up in a medical journal. They won’t use his name, of course.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Dean muttered, opening the soup and sniffing it. He smiled. “But this’ll go a long way in making me feel better. Got a spoon?” he asked Aidan.

“It was really frightening, Dean,” Richard told him, producing a white plastic spoon from his own Eleanor’s Deli bag. “You were so convinced you were Fili. What did that feel like?”

Dean took a sip of water while he thought about his answer. “I guess,” he began, “it felt like you all were questioning something totally obvious. Like the sky being blue. I _was_ Fili. I—I felt like I’d been displaced… abducted. And that I was being kept from my family. It was terrifying,” he looked down at his hands, which had started to shake.

Aidan reflexively reached for one of them. “Guys, we don’t have to talk about this,” he said in a cautious tone.

“I agree,” Graham seconded the sentiment. “I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry enough, Dean,” he told the blond.

“I’m sure I can find a way for you to make it up to me, Graham,” Dean grinned. “A bottle of that really nice whiskey with the fancy name might do it,” he suggested.

“Ah, yes. Laphroaig,” Graham chortled. “I might be able to rustle up two for you, laddie.” He leaned over and gave Dean a surprisingly gentle kiss on the forehead. “But for now, I’ll take my leave so you and your boy can have some quality time. And I’ll be taking _this_ numpty with me,” he cuffed Richard on the side of his head. “That’s for asking insensitive questions.”

“I do apologize, Dean,” Richard said sincerely. “I have to be honest. You portrayed Fili quite well when you thought you _were_ him. I was wondering if maybe you had taken away something from the experience you could use in your acting,” he shrugged.

“I think that’s Richard’s nice way of saying that the rest of the time you do a half-assed job of portraying Fili,” Aidan’s eyes sparkled. 

“Mmm, yes,” Richard knitted his brow. “I am putting my foot in my mouth a great deal today. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Dean,” he said softly, laying a warm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I hope you’re back on the set with us soon.” 

“Dr. Banerjee said I can go home tomorrow,” Dean told him, “and come back to work in a few days, if I take it easy.”

“That’s great news,” Richard smiled. “We’ll see you when you get home, Dean.” He and Graham departed.

“Who _was_ that guy?” Dean wondered when the door closed behind them.

Aidan chuckled and opened his own soup container.

“No, really,” Dean repeated. “Who was that man with Mr. Dwalin?”

Aidan’s head shot up, eyes wide. Dean’s eyes twinkled with mischief, and it took the brunet a moment to realize Dean was joking.

“Oh, Aid!” Dean chuckled. “The look on your face was just… priceless!” 

“That was _not_ funny, Dean!” Aidan’s heart returned to normal speed and he climbed into bed next to the blond, tickling him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“When we go, we go together… remember?” Dean grew serious, wrapping his arms around his lover.

“Just like we’d always planned,” Aidan affirmed, drawing Dean in for a kiss.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wound up seven chapters longer than I'd planned. Thanks for coming along for the ride. I always welcome your prompts.
> 
> Thorny

**Author's Note:**

> "Azl" = memory.


End file.
